


Hostile Witness

by notlefthanded



Category: Daredevil (TV), Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlefthanded/pseuds/notlefthanded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snarky meeting of minds during the Columbia years. </p>
<p>(It's my first time; please be gentle.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hostile Witness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ghostcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/gifts).



> In celebration of Ghostcat's birthday, a silly crossover AU originally posted on tumblr. Posting it here, too, because why not?
> 
> Endless thanks to [MachaSWicket](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket) for Law School 101 and general hand-holding. Errors are 1000% mine.

After a much-needed night blowing off steam at several of New York's more cost-effective bars, Matthew Murdock and Foggy Nelson, aspiring avocados at law, had finally cut themselves off. Not yet ready to call it a night, they walked -- or, if under oath, stumbled -- into their favorite diner. If one of the pair stumbled perhaps a little more gracefully than might be expected, nobody pointed it out.

Mouths watering, Matt and Foggy mostly successfully navigated the path to a shabby booth. The seats were comfortable enough, if a bit jagged where their duct tape patches failed to completely seal the split vinyl. The guys flipped their empty coffee cups right-side up and settled in.

Matt wasn't sure what he noticed first: an oddly familiar hint of perfume mingled with a sugary sweetness, or the thrum of Foggy's heartbeat suddenly picking up its pace.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you're not here for decaf," said an unfamiliar voice with an accent definitely not from New York. A new waitress: Well, that explained Foggy's heartbeat. 

Burbling liquid, bitter steam, a plastic 'thwap' as a couple of laminated menus hit the tabletop, and a shift of air as the waitress withdrew. Matt didn't need enhanced senses to know that Foggy had spun in his seat and his eyebrows were hugging his hairline. She must be beautiful. 

First things first, though: Food. In an argument dating back to undergrad, Matt and Foggy debated diner food's relative merits for last-ditch hangover evasion. The topic was so well worn, Matt had no trouble keeping one ear on the waitress. Her voice changed subtly as she traversed the cozy dining room. A shade of ditz for the frat boys; a touch of southern lilt for the elderly insomniac. Ah, a hopeful actress. But then why would he recognize her scent? Behind his dark glasses, Matt blinked. 

". . . I'm telling you, Matt, pancakes all the way. I know, I know, you're going to make the case for protein but that's what the bacon is for! You've got the syrup, get your blood sugar up; a little grease. . ."

"Foggy, give it up. There's no substance there. A couple of strips of bacon can never compete with a cheeseburger. It's so much more filling."

The waitress returned, sloshing down large tumblers of ice water Matt and Foggy hadn't ordered but probably would be wise to drink. "What's the verdict?" she asked.

"Hey," Foggy paused to squint at her nametag, "Amber?" The waitress's pulse quickened. Maybe she didn't like customers using her name? "Amber, we need your help."

"Oh, that takes me back," she said. "But let's hear it. I warn you -- my services are strictly limited to food and beverage procurement."

"Perfect!" Foggy said. "Amber, in the matter of pancakes versus cheeseburgers, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"Oh, God help me," she said.

"It's 'So help me God,'" said Foggy with a good-natured grin, "but in this instance we'll allow it. You agree to testify?"

The waitress's hair rustled as she glanced around the room. "I guess my other tables are set for the moment, and I do have a vested interest in breakfast-related arts," she said. A hint of the frat boys' ditz crept into her voice, and Matt's forehead furrowed. "Law students, huh? You guys must be really smart. Go easy on me." 

"Excellent! Don't worry; all you have to do is be honest." Matt frowned a bit as he heard her heartbeat jump again. Foggy continued, "Miss Amber, can you tell us how long you've been a waitress?"

"It's my first week at this diner," she said, "though back in my hometown I'm known for being extremely experienced. Some said I was the most experienced girl they'd ever heard of."

"You. . . don't say," said Foggy, and sipped his ice water. "Is your experience limited to the breakfast shift, or would you say your knowledge is spread evenly among the meals?"

Matt felt the most minute of breezes as the waitress tilted her head, heard her uniform crinkle as she shifted a hand to her hip. With an increasingly giddy tone that didn't quite match her earlier jab about decaf, she chirped, "Breakfast is my absolute favorite, but of course I've worked every shift and make a point of tasting all the menu items. It comes in pretty handy, especially when the late-night crowd wants a recommendation. I'm so voracious, I'll put just about anything in my mouth!"

Matt's face didn't move. He did, however, send up his first ever prayer of thanks for the hours he had spent on poorly cushioned kneelers under the watchful eyes of disapproving nuns (and one cantankerous martial artist). "Foggy," he said, "I am more than willing to concede your witness is an expert at whatever she's doing." 

"Right, okay. Um. Amber, is it within your realm of expertise to tell us the relative merits of pancakes versus cheeseburgers, with respect to late-night dining and hangover avoidance?"

"Sure! Of the two, cheeseburgers are clearly better. The sticking power of fat and protein clearly trump the short-term blood-sugar spike a customer can expect from pancake syrup."

Matt had never before heard somebody's jaw drop. 

Foggy sputtered. "Hey, you're my witness! You were supposed to be a pancake advocate!"

"I love pancakes," the waitress agreed. "Unfortunately I cannot recommend eating them after alcohol. The combination may lead to bloating, which can be uncomfortable for the customer and is frequently unpleasant for the wait staff."

"Miss Amber, you are under oath. Do you dispute that bacon has protein?"

"Of course not. That's a fact."

"In your experience here and at previous restaurants, are pancakes, or are they not, served with bacon?"

"Usually. Sometimes, sausage. Occasionally honeydew."

"An atrocity, but rare enough. You admit, then, that in most cases pancakes are served with a source of protein. Therefore, isn't it true that a pancake breakfast is a perfectly legitimate -- and indeed yummy -- solution to hangover prevention?" 

Matt fought his way past his own laughter. "Objection, leading!" 

"Overruled!"

"What are you doing, Foggy? You can't lead on direct examination."

"I can if the witness is hostile!"

The waitress burst in. "First of all, if these arguments are the best you can do, as an expert I strongly advise you to lay off the sauce. Secondly, you're both wrong: For fighting hangovers, an egg-and-cheese sandwich is your best bet. You get protein, fat, and more complex carbs to stabilize your blood sugar until you sleep it off. And finally, you can't ask me leading questions now if you never declared me hostile in the first place, dumbass."

For a moment, their one-booth courtroom was the closest to silence Matt had experienced in a decade, before the surrounding tables exploded with applause. Matt and Foggy laughed themselves to tears. And then Matt knew why he recognized that scent. 

"So, not a cheerleader, not a southern belle. Not really an actress after all," Matt said. "And not an Amber, either. What should we call you if we run into you on campus?"

She was quiet a moment, but when she spoke he heard the faintest evidence of a smile and he thought she extended her hand. 

"Hello," she said. "I'm Veronica."


End file.
